"Must be boring, cooped up in that room all day." He leans closer, close enough that I can smell the beer on his breath. "If you ever want some company, I'd be happy to?—"
His hand lands on my knee.
I freeze.
The touch is casual, friendly even, but my body reacts like it's a threat.
Every muscle locks up.
My heart starts pounding.
For one horrible second, I'm back in the apartment, back with Cain, back in that nightmare of flinching and cowering and trying to make myself small enough that he won't notice me.
"I—" My voice won't work. "Please don't?—"
"She said no."
Leviathan's voice cuts through the noise like a blade.
I didn't see him approach, didn't hear him coming, but suddenly he's there—standing behind Stark, one hand on the back of the man's barstool.
His face is calm. Expressionless. But his eyes are cold enough to freeze the blood in my veins.
Stark's hand jerks off my knee like he's been burned. "Prez. I was just?—"
"You were just leaving."
It's not a suggestion.
Stark seems to realize it, because he slides off the barstool and backs away with his hands raised.
"Didn't mean anything by it," he says. "Just being friendly."
Leviathan doesn't respond.
He just stands there, that cold gaze fixed on Stark, until the other man turns and walks away.
Only then does he look at me.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine." My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "I could have handled it."
Something flickers in his eyes. "I know."
"Then why did you—" I stop, take a breath, try to calm the adrenaline still flooding my system. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"It matters." He sits down on the stool Stark vacated, angling his body toward mine. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Ripley."
I look away, focusing on the condensation dripping down my glass. "You scared him off."
"That was the point."
"No, I mean—" I struggle to find the words. "He was just talking to me. And you came over and... and scared him off. Like I'm not allowed to talk to anyone."
